


I'm Coming Home (Tell The World I'm Coming Home)

by orphan_account



Series: Nothing can tear us apart [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Merthur Party 2013, Team Red
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 12:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is finally home, back to Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Coming Home (Tell The World I'm Coming Home)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yvieinsane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yvieinsane/gifts).



> This is prompt 6 of the Merthur Party.  
> Prompt 6 - Just The Beginning
> 
> Dedicated to the wonderful Yvie c;

**_Merlin POV_ **

****

He’s trapped inside a box of some sort, icy and frigid, Merlin doesn’t like it. He attempts to move, but he cannot. The ice? Yes, the ice surrounds and curls around him, repudiating Merlin’s efforts to break through. Everything is hazy, Merlin is confused, and god is he freezing.

It takes a while for Merlin to realise that the ice is melting. He should be relieved, but this puzzles Merlin even more. He doesn’t know what’s happening. The ice gradually becomes bearable, and Merlin waits impatiently to be freed.

Once all the ice has liquefied, Merlin’s body immediately begins to writhe and squirm and wriggle, savouring the simple act of _moving._ He swims upwards, shooting higher and higher. Merlin feels like he’s been holding his breath for years, and he can’t shake the feeling that he, to all intents and purposes, actually has.

His entire head punches through the surface of the water, and Merlin begins to splutter as oxygen finally fills his lungs, soothing his mind as his body lulls. He wants to stay put for a while, and relish the moment, but his body betrays him as it starts forward, an exterior force directing him. Merlin is too drained and worn out to fight against it, so he merely allows the force to guide him towards land.

As soon as he’s out of the water, Merlin lays on his back, breathing heavily. The sun strokes his body, but it does very little to warm him. Nonetheless, Merlin stays in position, soaking in the sunlight. The grass beneath him is damp, but velvety and smooth all the same. He interlaces his fingers through the grass and sighs contently.

“Merlin.”

The voice is just how he remembers it, light and like the sound of music.

Merlin opens his eyes and sits up; looking around for the face he hasn’t seen for the longest time.

“Merlin, you cannot see me. But it’s so good to see you again Merlin, but I do not have much time.”

“Freya? What’s going on?” Merlin says. He’s so confused, and Merlin wonders if maybe his brain is still frozen.

“You’ve awakened, Merlin. I woke you up.” Freya explains.

Awakened?

And then it all comes flooding back. He remembers Arthur’s death, the excruciating long years, the heartbreak, the mourning that never ended, and the daily trips to Avalon. He remembers his lack of faith, lost hope and… giving up. He gave up on Arthur.

Merlin chokes on a sob, and buries his now tear-streaked face into his - due to water - wrinkled hands. He rocks himself back and forth, bringing his knees up towards his chest and cradling himself.

“It’s okay, Merlin.” Freya reassures.

“How can anything possibly be okay? Okay does not exist for me anymore, Freya! Why, why did you wake me?” Merlin’s word, though deafening, were unfathomable, but he knew Freya absorbed every word.

“Merlin, I cannot possibly pull you both out at the same time. You were never supposed to be preserved in the lake of Avalon. You were always difficult, weren’t you Merlin.”

“Stop talking riddles!” Merlin doesn’t mean to be rude, and he feels guilt overwhelm him. It is soon repressed however, as Freya’s ringing chuckle echoes in a spiral around Merlin.

“Arthur currently resides in the Lake of Avalon, protected and guarded by my magic. When you decided to trap yourself there too, things became a bit tricky and–”

“Arthur.” Merlin’s head snaps up, his breath hitches and his thoughts scream and purge, all tangling and lacing together to form one word. _Arthur._

“Yes, Merlin he’s okay. But you have to listen to me; we’re running out of time. You were essentially dead, Merlin, but your magic kept you alive. Your magic is too precious and certainly too strong to die. You are magic itself, Merlin. I couldn’t pull you out before, for your magic still lingered, and refused to allow anyone near you. I had no choice but to juggle my magic between you and Arthur, preserving you both.” Freya explains.

“Then, then how is it you’ve awakened me now?” Merlin asks. This is all too much.

“Magic is fading from the world, Merlin. Your magic was fading, and I had to pull you out before you were completely gone. I almost lost Arthur in the process.”

Merlin’s eyes widened as he shuffled upwards and landed on his feet. “WHAT?” He screams, “How can you do that, Freya? How _dare_ you? How could you risk it? Is he okay? Please tell me he’s okay!” Merlin is sobbing uncontrollably again, he doesn’t care that Freya can see.

And then Freya tells him something of the utmost importance. Freya fills him with warmth and revives his soul. She pierces hope back into him, and Merlin remembers how to smile.

_“Merlin, I give you my word. Arthur is coming home.”_

****

**________________________________________________ **

****

**_ARTHUR POV_ **

****

_I’m coming home,_

_I’m coming home,_

_Tell the world I’m coming home_

_Let the rain wash away_

_All the pain of yesterday_

_I know my kingdom awaits_

_And they’ve forgiven my mistakes_

_I’m coming home_

_I’m coming home_

_Tell Merlin I’m coming home_

 

Arthur feels extremely light. He feels _alive._ His body is limp and flailing, but he’s rising.

Arthur is rising.

His body is burning, as though it was scorched in fire. He feels magic hovering around him, kissing his skin, seeping into his body and filling every inch of him. Arthur embraces the feeling, letting it flood and probe him, letting it shelter and overtake him.

He laughs inwardly at how perfect this is. He’s coming home to the world. He’s coming home to Merlin!

Magic pulls him further up and up and before he knows it, Arthur is emerging from the water. His hair clings to his forehead, slightly impairing his vision. He shivers savagely, but Arthur pays zero attention to that. He feels the life being restored inside of him, and he openly obtains it.

His mind is galloping, his heart throbbing. But through it all, he can hear the smallest of whimpers, and it definitely isn’t his. His eyes dart in front of him, and there he is.

_Merlin._

He’s still the same Merlin, save for his clothes. He still has dark hair and shockingly ashen skin. He’s still gangly and tiny, and he still makes Arthur’s heart pound.

Arthur takes one step forward and opens his arms out wide; an indication. Merlin immediately starts sprinting, his scarf floating away with the wind. Arthur watches Merlin, the desperate aura emanating from his body. Merlin crashes into Arthur, and they both fall in a tangle of limbs. Merlin buries his head into Arthur’s neck, and clings as if his life depends on it. Merlin’s broken cries are heavy and resonant, and Arthur bounds his arms around Merlin, clinging back. He tries not to, but the tears start leaking and now he’s sobbing too. The water surrounding them sways ferociously, almost as if it was weeping along. Merlin’s legs are snaked around Arthur’s waist, and his hands clutching the fabric on Arthur’s back. Arthur tugs at Merlin’s hair, and forces him to look at Arthur.

Blue eyes meet blue, and the Earth stops spinning.

“Hi.” Arthur’s whispers, his breath ghosting Merlin’s face. Merlin breaks out into a huge smile and looks towards the sky. “Thank you, Freya.” He says, and Arthur doesn’t question it.

“Your face is red and puffy.” Arthur smirks.

Merlin swats Arthur on the back of his head, and all of a sudden their foreheads clash. Merlin simply wanted to hurt Arthur for being a prat, he’d no idea the following would pursue. They don’t know who leans in first, and it doesn’t really matter.

They’re lips are pressed together in a desperate lock, sweet and chaste. They hold each other perilously, both fearing the other would disappear. Music and literature were a type of art, but Arthur thinks that this kiss is undoubtedly the best art ever made. He could do this forever.

Merlin breaks the kiss, and Arthur pouts.

“We should get you cleaned up,” Merlin says as he presses his finger tips to Arthur’s jutted lower lip.

 

______________________________________________

 

**_MERLIN POV_ **

 

They walk to Merlin’s nearby house hand in hand, and Merlin can feel millenia’s worth of agony oozing out of his body. It had been ten years since Freya promised to bring Arthur back, and this time Merlin never lost sight of hope.

Merlin guides Arthur into his house and watches in amusement as Arthur stares, flustered and agape.

“It’s so odd; almost as weird as your clothes, Merlin.” Arthur says.

Merlin laughs fondly, and tugs at Arthur’s hand, bobbing his head towards the bathroom. They enter in comfortable silence, and Merlin let’s go of Arthur to run the bath.

“What on earth is that thing, Merlin?” Arthur looks horrified.

“What, the bathtub?” Merlin asks, drumming his index finger on top of it.

“That is definitely not a bathtub.”

Merlin laughs hysterically and belatedly covers his mouth. Arthur frowns deeply, and at that Merlin twists the tap and watches Arthur’s face light up.

“Wow, no buckets?”

“No buckets.” Merlin repeats.

He leads Arthur towards the tub, and stops to pull Arthur’s clothes off and put them aside. Merlin smiles sheepishly as he does so. He’s dressed Arthur many times, but he’s never _undressed_ him.

Once the tub is full and steaming, Arthur dips inside. He looks up at Merlin and says “Well?”

“Well, what?” Merlin replies; nonplussed.

“Get in, you idiot. You’re dripping too.”

Merlin hastily strips off his clothes and joins Arthur, facing him with a timid smile. Arthur shuffles closer and places his hands on either side of Merlin’s cold face. Arthur’s face is serious now, and Merlin begins to panic internally.

“How long has it been?” Arthur whispers.

Oh. Merlin looks down, fidgeting with his hands.

“Merlin?” Arthur says in a worried tone, caressing Merlin’s cheekbone in an attempt to soothe him.

Merlin sighs “2310 years,” Merlin says, “But I was dead for 300 years of it.”

“Excuse me?” Arthur is utterly confused, and he can also feel a stab of pain pierce through him.

Merlin explains everything to Arthur. From the day Mordred had stabbed Arthur, to the day Merlin had fallen, and to now.

Arthur’s face is contorted into a mixture of anguish and shock, and Merlin tries to look away.

“You could’ve _died_.” Arthur whispers as he hauls Merlin closer, and Merlin straddles his hips.

“ _You_ were dead.” Merlin says simply, and Merlin knows Arthur understands.

“We’re both here now.” Arthur replies whilst stroking Merlin’s bare back, and Merlin nods.

They stay like that for a while, entwined in each other’s arms; a private and intimate moment.

“Merlin?”

“Hm?”

“Who’s Freya?”

“Someone from the past.”

Merlin knows that Arthur understands.

“Does she know that you’re mine now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

 


End file.
